Project SAI
by Pen and Pepper
Summary: In this world there are two kinds of people: the puppets and the puppet masters. We may duel and dance to put on a grand show, but ultimately it is Fate who pulls the strings. Q3/Female O.C.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

She glanced at the row of paintings on the wall. Walking slowly, she took her time drifting from one picture to the next until a particular artwork caught her eye. It was a painting of a group of people, among them a rather gaunt and silver-haired figure, donned in a robe of crimson. A man of science, it would seem, given the array of apparatuses scattered on the table before him. A striking subject on his own, however the attention of those surrounding him were not half so much on the man as it was on the experiment he was carrying out. In their center stood a machine, on top of which was a glass bowl, and inside of it a bird. Judging from the limited use of light and the abundance of shadows as well as the expressions of the other persons in the room: some of which were expectant, some disinterested and some grim—even distraught, bode ill for the fate of the poor creature in their midst. Somewhere in the back of her mind, something stirred. Turning around, she found herself face to face with a man: pale, slightly tall with a dark mop of hair and glasses. They stood staring at each other for a few seconds, after which his lips moved into a semblance of a smile, and he left the room.

It would not be the last of their encounters.

A small gust of wind blew from a car passing by. She pulled her coat in tighter around her body to ward off the chill. The weather's been terrible lately. The days have alternated between warm and cold temperatures at random intervals. More cars flew past, intent on beating the impending signal of a red light. Her phone rang.

The voice on the other end was impatient. Tone slightly raised, desperate to be heard over the growing din in the background. "Where are you?"

Several excuses and apologies were uttered. "I'm on my way."

Tires squealed. A sudden crash. Sirens.

She never made it to her destination.


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

M approached the tall glass cylinder in the middle of the room. Save for the harsh glare of the blue-tinged lamps illuminating the tank, there was no other source of light within that area. The effect it gave off was eerie, "Almost sinister." thought M. She looked up at the creature contained within the vessel. It was a woman, still young, the telltale signs of age yet to be imprinted on her skin. In the place of familiar wrinkles however, were traces of injuries—several scrapes and lacerations here and there, the marks so faint one would have to look closely to notice. On her back were tubes: tubes of different sizes inserting fluids of various kinds specifically designed to speed up the regenerative processes. Curled up in a fetal position, she looked every bit out-of-place inside her artificial environment: delicate, vulnerable.

M had made many mistakes in her career as the head of the British secret intelligence; this was one of them.

"Perhaps Mallory was right after all. Perhaps it is time that I stepped down while I have still some dignity left in me."

The girl shifted her head to one side as if she heard something, sensing nothing; she reverted back into her former position. "A reflex?" wondered M. No. The movements were far too slow and appeared almost calculated to have been a reflex.

"She stirs in her sleep." M turned around, startled. "Q, how long have you been standing there?"

"A couple of seconds."

"Good. I do not like snoops." She returned once more to her observation.

"There is a lot of irony in that statement." He walked towards the glass tank, hands folded behind his back. "But I won't dwell on that I'm afraid, as what I'm about to tell you, you will like even less."

"What is it now?"

"A clip's been posted in a popular video-sharing site. It contains the faces as well as the identities of five of our agents. They have been compromised."

M faced him, "Is there anything else you would like to tell me?"

"The culprit went on to note that five more shall be posted every week." He added; his eyes remaining fixed on the figure contained within the vessel before him.

M sighed and walked away, touching her earpiece and issuing orders as she went stopping only to tell him, "I expect you, among all else, to handle this situation as neatly and carefully as possible."

"You know I always do."

M nodded her head and left the room.

* * *

Twelve straight hours of staring at computer screens have begun to take its toll. Q collapsed on his seat in exasperation, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose to relieve some of the strain. He had just succeeded in taking down that video on YouTube, even went so far as to access the servers to be able to reroute all MI6-related data back into one of their own networks and thus prevent any further compromise of information. "But for how long?" he asked, muttering to himself. MI6 may have the most advanced security system there ever was, but if someone single handedly managed to hack into such a complex system then it meant twice the hell. He did not even want to begin thinking about the implications of a full-fledged cyber war but even that seemed inevitable. He may be able to cause more damage in his pajamas before his first cup of Earl Grey than a double 0 can do in the field, but picking up after someone else's catastrophes was a different thing entirely. It was far much worse than playing against a computer. Machines were predictable enough, for the most part he understood them; they were old friends. Humans, however, are as subject to their own whims as they are to their idiosyncrasies. They can be incredibly stubborn and they fight back—two characteristics which he has seen all too often in his field of work. There are no formulas, no tried and tested algorithms that will aid you in dealing with them. It well may be that to spar against human nature was a game of chance, and some people have played at it for too long. The enemy most certainly has.

Tanner poked his head in through the double doors at the far end of the room. "Q? You're still here? We'll be locking up in a few minutes."

Q put his glasses back on and stood up, "Yes, I was just shutting down. Don't worry about me." He grabbed his mug, one of the lesser favorites: a clear glass mug featuring an illustration of a caffeine molecule in green. It was a gift, two Christmases ago, from his older brother. Such was the reason for its sentimentality, nothing more. "Always the cheeky chemist."

Making his way through the tunnels, he could not help but glance over at the room containing the tank with the strange girl. As if by some curious spark of impulse, he walked over to the door and checked: it was unlocked. Slowly and silently, he made his way inside. She was just as he had found her this afternoon: pale, fragile and utterly beautiful. He inched closer. There was an ethereal quality to her, the way she surrendered herself to repose—trapped inside her glass cage, entirely oblivious to the living world around her. It filled him with a profound sense of poignancy. She stirred once more, almost as if she had felt his presence. He almost refused to believe it until…

…until she opened her eyes.


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

The mug slipped from Q's hands and shattered on the floor, fragments of glass scattering in all directions as it went. How his older brother would react should he find out, was the least of his problems at present. The situation which faced him now—the one he so recklessly threw himself into moments ago needed to be dealt with, and dealt with _fast_. Heart pounding, he lifted his hand to his ear, careful not to break eye contact with the creature now awake inside the tank. He gulped, in an attempt to swallow his fear, and made a mental note that in whatever light the circumstances are viewed, the facts still remain. First: that the woman before him is only as capable as the walls that confine her. Second: that the delicacy of the matter at hand, rests greatly on the manner of his response. "You are in control." he reminded himself once more, lest he should forget. Taking a deep breath, he asked. "Tanner? Are you still there?"

The odds were kind, Tanner confirmed. Finally certain of his intent, he summoned up all the courage he could muster and gave the order.

"Get me M. Now."

* * *

"I hope you have a very good reason for waking me up at such an unholy hour. What the hell were you doing in that room anyway?" asked M, as they trudged through the underground halls of the new MI6 headquarters.

"I was merely passing by and found the room unlocked. Certain protocols have to be observed thus I had to go in and check." Q replied, as nonchalantly as he could. "Hmph." was the only reply he received. They proceeded along in silence.

Bond had been waiting for them when they came in. He smiled smugly upon seeing the companion that M had brought along with her. "Q. Come to see the show?"

"Started it, actually." Bond chuckled at this.

"Oh do shut up, both of you." snapped M, and their little dialogue ceased.

The interrogation room was one of the most unforgiving places in the entire base, next to the containment chambers situated in the deeper chasms beneath the earth which they now lay. The area was terribly wide and awfully empty, with the exception of a table and two chairs. The excessive brightness emanating from the fluorescent lamps provided a severe contrast against the stark white walls of the room. Cold and sterile, it provided a startling disparity from the blackened truths the room had so long grown accustomed to hearing. The young woman sat on one end of the table, the lines of uncertainty furrowing her brow. On the other end was a physician, his face a mask so perfectly still, it hinted at years of having done the same job one too many times. The place, it seemed, was a breeding ground of oppositions: the circle containing the yin and yang, the scale from which a balance so fearfully hung.

The doctor cleared his throat. "Let us begin. What is your name?"

The question was so blatantly simple. "My name is Verna. Verna Gatcliffe."

"Do you know why you are here?"

"No."

The doctor raised one eyebrow, "Do you recall anything from before the very moment you stepped into this room?"

"I remember waking up naked inside a tank. I remember seeing a man and witnessing how utterly frightened he was of me, as to why I cannot tell, but I do remember him struggling to keep his composure while he called your people here. Next thing I know is that I'd awakened in a locked cell and it was already daylight, after which they escorted me here."

He nodded his head solemnly. "I see. Tell me Miss Gatcliffe: who are you and what is it that you do."

"My name is Verna Gatcliffe. I was born in Suffolk, just a little bit north of Ipswich in the spring of 1987, to Rachel Miller and Andrew Gatcliffe. I have an older sister named Evie and we, along with our mother, moved to London when I was four, shortly after our father died. I currently work as a Human Resources analyst for Hunter & Kline."

The doctor now looked puzzled, letting out a deep breath he picked up the folder lying on the table. "I will run you through a list of words. You must tell me the first thing that pops into your head. For example: when I say "time" you might say "gold" or something to that effect. Are you ready?"

She nodded her head.

"Agent?"

"Spy."

"Man?"

"Woman."

"M?"

"Letter."

The doctor glanced over quizzically at the glass on the other side of which M stood watching. "Proceed, Dr. Hall." she ordered, and he went on.

"Gun?"

"Deadly."

"Murder?"

"Unnecessary."

"Country?"

"England."

"Project S.A.I.?"

She paused.

"I don't know."

M sighed, "That will be all, doctor." and the glass frosted over. They stood in silence for a while, uncertain what to make of the scene which they had just witnessed moments ago. "Well it could be worse." remarked Bond, unfolding his arms from his chest.

"Yes, it could."

"Is there anything you would like me to do?"

"What you do best: your job."

"If you say so." Smirking, he walked out of the room.

"Q?"

"Yes?"

"Bond will be leaving for Shanghai tonight. Meanwhile, I need you to find out whatever happened to that chip."


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Q tapped his fingers on his lap as he sat in the waiting area outside the laboratory. The smell of rubbing alcohol pervaded the air in that place where expectancy and disquietude mingled with each other seamlessly. It loomed over him like a plague. He shifted his eyes nervously, "What's taking them so long?" he wondered, striving to keep himself from fidgeting around in his seat too much. Finally, the door opened.

"I'm sorry for the delay. Here are results that you have requested." said the doctor, lifting his clipboard. Q stood up.

"So far, the patient's faculties are normal for someone of her…classification. Her skills and capabilities remain unimpeded. The problem, however, rests in the brain. It appears that the blow she had taken to her head during the time of the accident caused some traumatic brain injury. Much of her long-term memory was damaged. She's healing well, but it may take some time for the lost information to be restored"

"And what of the microchip?" Q asked.

"Ah yes, that. We made an in-depth analysis just like you asked. I'm afraid the results were all negative."

Q narrowed his eyes, "You mean…"

"There is no trace of the microchip."

* * *

"What do you mean it's gone?" M exclaimed; her eyebrows rising.

"It wasn't there. The microchip is lost." Q replied.

"Well where do you think it is?" she shot back, impatiently.

"I honestly don't believe that it's a matter of where. I think the proper question would be who has the chip."

"Fine. _Who_ do you think has the bloody chip?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"Whoever the person responsible for the accident was."

M's eyes widened. "You don't say?"

"Oh but I do. On the day of the handover with Bond? There was a considerable number of people on that street, how incredibly convenient it had been that it was she who got hit. The doctors? They were from our team. They knew of the project as much as we do, it would have been a violation of the protocol to tamper with something without prior notice from my division. And then a few days later, a video is posted, threatening the identity of every agent known to the British Secret Intelligence. It isn't coincidence, M. It's a contrivance, and we are all part of the same game." he pointed out matter-of-factly, after which he added "I'm sorry. That was highly disrespectful of me."

"No, it's quite alright." she murmured, turning her back on him and walking towards the window. "Keep your eye on Bond. He may just give us the lead we so desperately need." Q nodded slowly, fearing that he may have just offended the very person he worked for. Inwardly chastising himself, he made his way towards the door. "And Q?" she said, looking over her shoulder. "It was a bloody good decision, hiring you."

Q walked out of the room, smiling.

* * *

Once again, he found himself gazing at her through a window silently. There was something about the manner in which she carried herself. He could not quite put his finger on it but if there was one thing for certain, it draws him to her. It was a queer feeling, this one. It reminded him vaguely of how he used to climb walls as a child—balancing on top of rundown brick and concrete fortifications alike, the sheer thrill of the possibility that any time he might lose his footing then fall and break his neck. Yet amidst the danger, there was something else: that inexplicable rush of delight that comes after he has run the entire course. He was never a daring little thing to begin with, but it was precisely that pleasure which fuels him to brave those walls. So it was with her.

"I know you're there."

He froze, still as a stone.

"Will it always be this kind of situation with us? Wherein you are standing on one side of the glass and I on the other?" He could almost sense the smile in her voice as she said these words.

"Not necessarily."

"Well then." She approached the glass, looking into it as if she could actually see him, "I dare you to enter this room."

Swallowing, he ran his ID card through the scanner and the door opened. He went inside. "Happy?" He asked, trying to sound unfazed. She approached him, her eyes cold and full of disdain. His heart beat heavily against his chest and he held his breath. All of a sudden her lips broke into a wide smile, "Happy." and before he knew it, she was snickering.

"You really should have seen your face."

Whatever fear he might have had just then had faded away. Pursing his lips, he glared at her. "And you are so amused by this aren't you?"

She stopped and regained her composure. "In less than 72 hours I have been locked up, released, only to be locked in again, interrogated, and subjected to more medical examinations than I ever had in a year all thanks to you. So if you must know: yes I am having the time of my life."

He did not know exactly how to respond to this. On a normal day he would have made a snippy comeback, but then all of which she had just said was more or less true. Instead he muttered, rather unconvincingly "I am sorry for your inconvenience."

She gave him a tiny smile. "I don't blame you. Not really, I blame you some. But I figure that what they want from me must be something important. I'm just frustrated that I could not give it to them sooner." She let out a sigh as she turned around, but all of a sudden she halted. "Oh that's right, where are my manners? Do forgive me; you see I've been locked in too long." Laughing, she faced him once more and extended her hand out to him, "I'm Verna, and you are?"

Slightly amused, he shook her hand. "Q."

"Lovely. Now that we're fully acquainted, also because you owe me several, you must help me get out of here."


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Q let go of her hand, "Nice try."

"No, no, no you misunderstand me!" she protested, eyes widening. "What I meant was that you have to help me find what they are looking for-what it is that I've lost. Then you would get what you want, and I would get what I want, which is: my freedom."

He knew full well what she was trying to imply the first time around. "And if I refuse?"

"You won't." she replied, decidedly.

He raised one eyebrow. "What makes you so sure that I would want to help you?"

She gave him the most chilling smile. "Because I know you are afraid of me. You are scared of what I might do, and if I do something completely dreadful the blame would inevitably fall on you."

He smirked back at her. "You say that now and yet you're the one who desperately needs my help to be able to carry out even half of the things you threaten to do. So where does that put you?"

"Same as always: trapped in a cell. However, it would be less dull this time, seeing as you're basically stuck with me." She lifted her hand, and he realized with horror that she had successfully filched his ID card from his waist without him noticing.

"Checkmate."

* * *

Q peeped in from between the double glass doors that led to M's office. "You called for me?"

"Yes, come in." She was so preoccupied with shuffling through documents on her table that she barely even looked at him as he did. "Now I won't bother asking how you ended up inside a locked cell or why our little friend over there managed to get hold of your identification. Do sit down. What I want to know is this: what did she want from you?"

Q's ears reddened at the prospect of M finding out about his embarrassing encounter with Gatcliffe awhile ago. It was fortunate that the security had come in at exactly the right moment to escort her away for physical evaluation. Otherwise he would not have been able to retrieve his ID and get out of that room without a bit of dignity still intact.

"She wanted me to help her recover what she lost. She is under the impression that we need something from her and until she is able to give it, we would not let her go." he answered, averting his eyes.

"I have just been reviewing the results from her physical examination awhile ago, and the results are highly satisfactory. But then so was…how is the situation with Bond?"

Q could not help but perceive how M hastily shifted from one topic to another. He took great care in acting like he had not noticed. "He's on to the enemy. The last signal we received from him was somewhere on an island off the coast of Macau. It well may be that we will have our man in less than 48 hours."

She nodded pensively.

"That will be all. You may leave."

* * *

Q spent the majority of the day tracking Bond's progress. Finally finding time to catch a break, he settled down on his swivel chair, a cup of Earl Grey cradled in his hands, and he let his thoughts wander around aimlessly. Every now and then he found himself thinking about her. "How pathetic." he murmured.

"What is?" came a voice from somewhere in the now empty room. His head whipped around to see Verna walking towards him. "I should have known." He thought.

"I like your mug. It's very witty." she said, pointing out the white drinking cup resting on his lap, a big black Q emblazoned on the middle with the number ten acting as a subscript. "You play Scrabble?"

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What are you doing here?"

She grinned. "Well they started feeling sorry for me so they chose to let me roam freely around the place on the condition that I wear this." She held out her hand: it was a tracking bracelet, one of Q's designs.

"They really shouldn't have done that." he replied, turning around so the back of the chair faced her instead.

"Oy, that's mean. What are you drinking?" She skipped around his desk and he found himself facing her once more. He rolled his eyes.

"Don't you have something better to do?" He snapped. He valued his privacy among all others. Finding some time alone given the job that he had was difficult enough, and when he did he treated it almost sacredly.

"Actually, yes. There are a lot of things I would rather do which I can't at the moment because I'm stuck here. Can I have some?" she asked seating herself on his desk, pointing to the mug of Earl Grey. Q was not one to share his tea, but it seemed unlikely that she would leave as soon as he would like. In surrender, he obliged. "Mmm, it's good." She said giving him a thumbs up. "You know my sister Evie; she hates this kind of stuff. When we were teens we used to have these crazy tea parties and instead of tea she'd have rum or some alcoholic beverage in her cup. Mum flipped every time she found out." She chuckled to herself and sighed. "I wish I could see them. Or at least tell them that I'm okay. They must be so worried by now." She stared at the distance for a few moments before she realized where she was. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's getting late and I must be disturbing you…what are you doing?"

"Dialing your mother's house." He extended his mobile out to her. "One call."

Her face brightened. She jumped up, waving her hands and squealing in excitement then she hugged him. All the while, Q sat there amused.

"Hello? Mum? Yeah, it's me! Yes, I'm doing quite alright. The people here are quite nice actually and I've already met a friend…" She covered the receiver, looked at him and whispered.

"Thank you."


End file.
